Family Love
by Avora SaDiablo
Summary: If hate is only skin deep, how deep is love? Petunia wakes up one morning with a mystery voice in her head that forces her to realise why she hates Harry so much, and to do something about it. One shot, revamped.


**Family Love.**

**A.N:** This story was one of my first fics many years ago. Since I have beaten my writers block, I have simply cleaned it up a bit, but this is still the same story. Written at the request of my mother to write something "Happy".

**Disclaimer: ** No ownership of anything related to the Potterverse.

Petunia silently crept down to the kitchen to start making pancakes for breakfast. _This is ridiculous, forcing him back here,_ she thought to herself as she feverishly beat the eggs. _It's not like we want him here, they don't want him here either. Giving us threats... If they've got such a bloody problem about the way we treat him that's their own fault, they sent him here. They can come and bloody well get him._ She continued to add flour, concentrating more on her thoughts than on her cooking until she realized she added half the bag. She threw out the mixture and started again. _The first time I bloody saw him I wanted to drop him in a well. Should have just sent him to an orphanage and had done with him._

'_Why didn't you?'_ a second voice in her head challenged.

_I don't know. I never got around to it. _Petunia added the milk to the bowl.

'_Because he reminded you of Lily? Those green eyes are identical to hers. Your mothers. Your grandmothers. Aunts, uncles, cousins and all. But not you, you landed dads dull brown ones.'_

Petunia cursed as the excess milk ran across the table. She wiped it up and poured the useless concoction down the drain. She broke another three eggs into the bowl. _Exactly. Why would I want him around? Perfect little Lily, always the best at everything. Call me a bitter old woman, but this is all her fault. Nothing ever went wrong, nothing what-so-bloody-ever, and then poof! There's a bloody witch in the family. I didn't ask for it. I never said, 'Lily darling, you know I love you terribly, but please go get yourself blown up so I'm stuck with your rat of a son!_

'_So you're jealous?'_

Petunia cursed when she realized she'd used the last four tablespoons of vanilla essence left in the bottle. She threw the batter out again.

_'Face it. She's the witch, the favourite, the one with the eyes, the one with the son how can fit through a crack, that has the entire other world talking about her and her husband. Harry's more famous than the royal family in that world, probably is royalty the way they go on about him. He's better protected than the national treasury, and has people who give enough about them that they want to kill him.'_

_We'll, I'm not jealous of that-_

'_But you do envy him. He's probably got enough gold to flood the suburb.'_

_If he did why is he still here?_

'_Have you asked him? Have you even once considered what it is he really wants?'_

_Why should I? He can have everything he bloody wants at the snap of his fingers, why should I have to talk to him? He sends letters to his wretched little friends, he talks to them. He's just merely sponging off us. _

'_Then why don't you just chuck him out?'_

Petunia poured the mixture into the blender and forgot to replace the lid, batter flying all over the kitchen.

_Because those other wizards would… _

'_Those other wizards would what? Ban you from ever seeing him again? Remove the only memory of you sister you had left in your life? They can't kill you.'_

_Who says?_

'_What's the point? 'Take care of Harry or we'll kill you'? How can you take care of him if you're dead?' _

Petunia threw the rag on the floor, about to answer back when Vernon came down yawning. "Morning love. Who are you talking to-what happened!" He's eyes strayed to the pile of growing dishes and batter all over the bench tops and appliances.

"Bad start." She half smiled in reply. "I'll take breakfast up when it's ready. Dudders'll be in bed for another few hours at least." There was a silent tapping on the window upstairs followed by a creek, an owl shriek and Vernon preparing to barge up the stairs. "No, shh," Petunia whispered listening to the quiet tones upstairs.

"Thanks, another rat. Well, get in, and keep it down. Do you want to get stuck in there for the rest of summer again? They could easily use another owl you know and Vernon can't lock pig up. He'd be nuts to try to. Well, get some sleep." There was the sound of bed springs sagging.

"He hasn't been down since he got back." Petunia commented absently to herself.

"You want him to?" snorted Vernon.

"No, but he hasn't had anything to eat. I don't want to get the blame of him being so darn skinny 'cause he doesn't want to come down." Petunia retorted. Vernon shrugged and trudged up the stairs back to bed.

_'Are you sure that's why?' _

"Yes." Petunia replied defiantly to herself.

'A_re you sure? That sounded more like concern. You are allowed to be. After all, he is your nephew. Why should you hate him because of something your sister and he had no choice about? Year after year, you claim you can't stand the sight of him and then you try to stop him going back to that school. Tell me the sense in that? I'll tell you, you're concerned that the same thing that happened to your sister will happen to him and if you make him feel miserable enough, he won't amount to anything because of the psychological damage you've given to him. Petty dear, you're plan isn't working anymore. It's backfiring. Try another approach.'_

Petunia finally finished another batch of batter successfully before adding it to the pan and returned her focus on to cleaning up the rest of the mess.

_I don't know what you're talking about._ She lied

'_Well then why did you originally want to send him to an orphanage? You didn't want to do it out of love. So why didn't you do it?'_

Petunia scrubbed the same spot over and over. _I don't know._

'_Why don't you do something nice? What would happen if tomorrow he died?'_

_I wouldn't think too much of it. _Even she didn't believe that one.

_'Oh please, who are you trying to convince here? Admit__ it. You'd be a wreck because you'd feel like you could never do a bloody thing right and it would prove your sister to have been better than you, all along. Would you sacrifice your life for your son?' _there was a silent pause for a moment. _'Would you sacrifice your life for Harry? There must be something much more special about him or nobody would care what happened to him.'_

_Well I..._ but she couldn't think of any response to that one.

'_Listen Petty, the only one you're trying to convince is you. Think about it. You have the chance to change something, to be better than what others think you are.'_

_What about what I want? I don't want to find out he died like his mother, and all because he wanted to go off chasing some fantasy life instead of working hard and getting a real, _safe_ job and living a real,_ safe_ life. _

Silence followed.

She shrugged and continued to scrub up until… "DAMN IT!" she'd forgotten about the pancakes on the heat, which were now about the same colour of the Teflon pan. _This is all your fault_, she scowled at the voice in her head.

_'Yep. Now, are you going to do something nice for your darling nephew?' _

_Well, he could have had pancakes._

'_No he couldn't, Dudley would have. Make him a cake, rich dark chocolate…lots of icing…green and purple letters 'Welcome Back Harry!''_

_You are insane. He'd have a coronary._

'_You wouldn't mind that, remember? You wouldn't care if he died tomorrow,'_ the voice challenged.

_Fine. I do care about him._

'_That a girl. Now let's get cooking!'_

Vernon came back down the stairs ten minutes later once the smoke had wafted into his room. "Darling, are you _sure_ you're okay? I haven't seen you like this in years. What are you baking?"

"A cake for Harry." She replied absently as she carefully set the cake into the oven and started mixing the icing.

"Do you want me to find some cyanide or arsenic? Snail pellets?" Vernon wasn't quite sure what to make of his wife's actions.

"No, but if you could find the glass cake dish in the crystal cabinet, that would be nice." Petunia replied loftily. Vernon shook his head in dismay going up the stairs again. "Now, how to get Dudley away from it long enough so Harry can have a bit?" she muttered to herself, pacing the kitchen, occasionally checking the cake.

_'You could lock him in his room?_'

_How? There's no lock. _

'_Send him to the shops?'_

_He'd die of heat stroke before he got there._

'_Send him to a friends?'_

_I don't like the influence his friends have over him, they're turning him into a real bully,_ She knew this was the other way around, but she was only up to fighting one delusion at a time.

'_Send Vernon out for a drive with him. Dudley's got that school dinner party coming up, tell them to go looking for suits that are nice and fit so it'll be quicker for you to get them later. That also gives you and Harry some hours of interrupted time to talk.' _

_That could work,_

Petunia dashed up the stairs. "Vernon, I have a lot of things to do today, and I needed to pick up a new suit for Dudley. Would you be able to help him find one he likes? I'll come by and see how it is tomorrow. Maybe you could have lunch or something." She suggested taking a seat at her dresser, and starting to apply makeup.

"Are you trying to get us out of the house? Have you been... you know... has Harry done some sort of you-know-what on you?" he asked cautiously.

Petunia couldn't believe how ignorant and foolish he sounded. How did they get so afraid of her nephew? "Don't be ridiculous. It would just get Dudder's some fresh air, you two a chance to talk…? What do you think?"

"You really want us out of the house. Does it have anything to do with the cake?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yes now would you please do as I ask and leave before the day gets too hot? Now, I have a whole lot adverts from one end of England to the other-" she opened a draw and pulled out a handful of junk mail articles.

"But-"

"I want you to find the things that are good, and put them on hold for the next week. You never know, one might be the perfect fit and the next thing you know it's gone. Do you think you could be ready to go by nine?"

"But-"he began to protest, but the look she gave him made him think otherwise. "Whatever you like dear, I just don't feel leaving you alone with him is such a great idea,"

"That's not your decision." She replied handing him the clippings and leaving the room to get Dudley out of bed.

Half an hour later, Petunia had finished piping the last of the letters and contemplated piping a broom. _No. That's going too far. I still don't approve._

'_But think how happy it would make him!'_

_You;_

'_Yeah?'_

_Shut up._

She set everything up in the sun room with her Sunday best china and silverware, fussing over a small crease in the table cloth. When she finally was content and heard her two men leaving the house, she made her way up to Harry's room. She stood out the front of his bedroom door hovering awkwardly. _How hard could it be? Knock, ask if he'd join me for morning tea, and talk to him_. Her knuckles were just about to connect with the door when it opened.

"er…? Aunt Petunia?"

"I was wondering if you like to join me for morning tea. Yes, that was what I was going to ask." She added to herself awkwardly. Harry looked at her bizarrely, opening and closing his mouth a little more than he meant to in shock.

He wasn't sure what to make of it. "Is this an attempt to give me a heart attack? Are you ill?"

"Oh for heaven's sake boy!" She threw her arms in the air, "I try to do something nice for you, I chase out my son and husband so that we can spend some time together talking and everyone is convinced I'm ill or trying to kill you! Is it so impossible that I could do something nice for you? Is it really?" she rambled off leaving Harry in a complete and utter state of shock.

"Alright! Keep your hair on! I'll come down, just give me a moment to wake up." He went back into his room, about to shut the door. "So this isn't a hoax?" he asked carefully and Petunia threw her hands in the air again and stormed back down the stairs. "I'll take that for a no then shall I?" he asked himself shutting the door.

Petunia paced around the sun room, feverishly, straightening up the silverware and turning the cake to the most attractive side in every angle. A few minutes later, when she was beginning to regret her idea he came into the room. "Do you uh, want something to drink? Ah, tea? Juice? Milk?" she asked awkwardly as he eye's fell to the cake and set up for breakfast he seemed lost for words out of confusion.

"Are you certain you're alright? This seems very…odd."

"I realize that. Do you want a bit of the cake?" She asked quickly turning to what she was good at.

"Uh…okay…" They sat down together awkwardly. "This looks good." He managed to say

"Thank you. How was your year?" Harry looked down at his plate and merely shrugged. _Don't you dare play that game with me boy, I have worked too hard to do this and you are bloody well going to answer me._ "You can tell me." She said insisted.

"It was…alright, I guess." He answered. _Why you little…you are going to tell me how your year was or else what are we supposed to talk about!_ He rubbed his forehead as he said that, something she noticed Lily always used to do when things were bad.

"Your mother used to do that too. Harry, you can tell me." She pressed trying to fight back the frustration and urge to pull the words out of his throat.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Is it about your grades?"

"No"

"About your friends?"

"_No_"

"A girlfriend?"

"Aunt Petunia, I really appreciate all this but I don't want to talk about what's wrong." Petunia sat in silence beneath her sister's green eyed stare.

"Okay, we don't have to." She finally said and Harry relaxed a little. "So what types of scores do you get in English and Maths…and what other subjects you do?" She asked trying to make amends.

"We don't have English; we don't do maths. I guess I do alright though." He was drawing in the icing with his fork, another quirk he'd picked up from his mother.

"Do you play any sports?" she asked growing steadily frustrated with his lack of co-operation. "Soccer, cricket?"

"Quidditch." _Quwhatsit?_ "Quidditch, played on brooms. Bit like soccer and basket ball, only two-hundred times as dangerous. Occasionally someone gets a bludger in the head, which hurts; someone got struck by lightning but nothing worse." He shrugged. Petunia was looking at him gob-smacked. "It's difficult to explain."

"Your father played, didn't he?" she guessed. How many wizarding sports could there be?

"Yeah, at Hog-, I mean at my school."

"Harry, you can say Hogwarts, your uncle isn't here. Try some cake," She insisted.

Harry curiously sniffed a bit of the cake on the fork before having mouthful. "It smells like almonds."

"There's almond oil in it."

"You know, cyanide also smells like almonds." Harry informed her.

"So does _almond oil_."

"Yeah, but you're acting…" _insane? Lun-natt-ic, not lunatic, Psychotic? _"…different." _There were word which were more accurate._

"Are we just going to talk about all the different ways I could kill you for the next few hours?"

"You're definitely ill."

"Yes Harry, I am ill. I am going to die if you don't tell me about what you do at Hogwarts because I am trying to make conversation with you." She surrendered exasperatedly.

"So you're apologizing?"

"I wouldn't push it so far."

"You backed a cake that says 'welcome back'. You're feeling guilty."

_'Damn he's good. Go on Petty, answer him.'_

"No I'm…fine, fine, I'm feeling guilty. You were trusted to me and I did wrong by you and obviously there's nothing I can do to talk you out of going back to Hogwarts and as you're nearly finished, I wanted you and I to finish as friends." She sped through very quickly.

"When's my birthday?" He asked.

_Shit._ The look on her face betrayed her. She couldn't remember.

"The 31st of July." He answered for her.

Petunia could sense she was losing him. She went for the next best thing she knew. Shopping. "Great, what would you like? Bigger bird cage for your owl, one of those game boy things? Or maybe we could go to some wizarding shops and you could pick out something? Is there anywhere you want to go? To do? Go to Paris for a few days on the metro?"

Harry stood up, "Aunt Petunia, there isn't anything that you can get me. Thank-you for the cake." He said before going back up to his room. Petunia tapped her foot irritably.

_I told you it wouldn't work._

'_Give it time.'_

_He doesn't want me to get him anything for his birthday. _

'_Maybe his upset about something?'_

_Like?_

'_Missing his friends? Has a bit of summer homework to do? Watch the news. Something'll come to you. And you have got all day after all.'_

Petunia channel surfed, almost melting the remote in her frustration, when a face flashed on the screen. "An autopsy has today revealed that gas explosion last month, did indeed claim the life of the infamous Sirius Black. So may we all rest safely, and now, on to the weather."

"Sirius Black?" the name was familiar,

'_Yeah, raving Lunatic with a gun about three years ago.'_

_I know that, but there's something else…Lily mentioned him once._

'_Well done Petty. Now, was she saying? What a spunk, charming, devilishly handsome...'_

_Actually…_ Petunia dashed up the stairs, and pulled down the stairs up to the loft. She rummaged through a few trunks, boxes with tarnished silver, occasionally pocketing the odd thing she'd been looking for.

'_oooOOoo, the box. Big step hey? Haven't looked in there since Harry came.'_

_I know._ Petunia pulled out the shoebox and sat with it in her lap for a moment before opening it. Inside were stacks of letters, cards, small trinkets and old photos, all of which were moving.

'_Hey! That's a photo of Harry when he was a baby! Awe, look at the three of them, and that looks like a letter of apology and that…that's a christening photo…why didn't you put these out?'_

_Encase you failed to notice, they are all moving!_

'_Keep your hair on Petty, hey, isn't that the dead guy, Sirius Black? Handsome looking fellow wouldn't you say?'_

Harry's words at the end of his third year. 'My godfather, he's a convicted murderer and he's broken out of wizard prison and he's on the run.'

_Seems he got killed._ Petunia sighed. So that's why he was so upset.

'_He'd probably really like going through all that with you._'

Petunia replaced the lid.

_'Go on, what's the worst that could happen?'_

_I don't want to think about that._

'_Okay, so we're agreed? We are going to go into his room and offer to go through it all?' _Petunia carefully climbed back down the steps with the box and made her way to his room. She knocked and received a grunt. Taking it as a 'enter' she walked in. Harry was lying on his bed flicking through what looked like a photo album of sorts. His broom was standing in a corner next to his cupboard, which had been plastered with photos of his friends, article clippings and a rather blazon list counting down to the end of the holidays.

"What's that you've got there?" she asked as she brushed a skeleton of a mouse from the floor with her shoe in slight disgust. She had avoided setting foot in here in years.

"Nothing."

"Harry, you aren't looking at nothing." She stated sitting opposite him and setting the shoebox aside.

"What's that?" he challenged her, glancing at the box.

"Nothing." She replied childishly. She wasn't going to be the first to tell.

"You came in here to show me nothing?" He asked unconvinced. "This is just something Hagrid made for me." He finally informed her _Yes! We've gotten somewhere!_

"That giant?" she said remembering back all those years.

"Half giant. His father was a human. He made me this photo album with photos of my mum and dad." He flipped a page and Petunia saw Lily look at her sadly as James redirected her to face Harry and they smiled waving happily up at him.

"You don't have any spare spots do you?"

"Huh?"

"You might like to add some of these things." She opened the box and handed it to him. "Even after I stopped talking to your mother, she still sent me letters and photos, keeping me updated on what was happening in her life. I just never had the courage to reply. She was a witch, how would anything in my life ever compare to hers?"

Harry looked through the photos and letters.

"I'm sorry about your godfather."

"Sorry doesn't quite change anything. Not when it was my fault." He looked at a photo which had Sirius in it.

"They said he died in a gas explosion."

"Most 'gas explosions' are caused by wizards. He died at the ministry of magic in the department of mystery's and died by a spell from his cousin Bellatrix in an ambush to kill me and my friends." Petunia was ready to fall over. The cake didn't mean a thing, the box did. She still could have made the bloody pancakes!

"What happened?"

"You remember in my fourth year when the Weasleys…well…tried to get here by floo powder, some wizards talk through the fire. I was trying to get in contact with Sirius and his…" Harry slammed his head into his hands furiously, "Bloody house-elf Kreatcher told me he'd been caught by Voldemort at the ministry of magic. So I went there, with some friends who refused to stay at the school, and we found out too late it had never happened and was a trap for me to get the prophecy about how Voldemort could kill me. Only he and I can't touch it and the ministry still didn't believe he was around so he couldn't go there. Dumbledore found out where we were and some of the Aurors came to save us. Sirius refused to stay back and he ended up getting killed for it." Harry vexed pushing over a pile of books.

"Harry, it wasn't your fault. Did you kill him?"

"The same way as he killed my parents. Through being stupid and trusting the wrong thing." Harry glared angrily at the ground. "I killed him."

"No you didn't. He cared about you and you were in trouble. We all make mistakes, yours was going there. His wasn't keeping a close enough eye on you."

"and you know all about mistakes?"

"I've made a few. I was traumatized when I found out Lily was dead. I was terrified if you were a wizard too, you'd meet the same fate as her. She was always better than me, she inherited the eyes, the looks, the brains, the position of favourite. When she was also a witch, that was it. I couldn't compete. I hated your mother for being better, having a wonderful husband, always smiling. She had more courage than I could ever imagine myself having. She _died for you_. There is no love deeper than that, willing to die for someone with so much certainty that they will love you and be content that you will never see them again. I couldn't do that. I didn't hate you for being her son; I hated you for reminding me that I was second best. Don't think of yourself as second best, you are greater than she is because you were worth dying for. Three and more people have died for you; there must be something special about that." Harry looked at her and she smiled at him.

"I don't want people to die for me."

"It's their choice. They would rather die than risk you dying. As far as they're concerned, they are just another fish in the sea, and if it keeps you out of the net, you'll have the chance to meet other fish who will help you in the same way." Harry burst into tears and she wrapped her arms round him.

_Thank you Sirius._

'_Thank you Petunia. Lily and James also say thank you.'_

Petunia started crying with her nephew. So much time wasted over fear. What was it worth?

**A/N:** As much as I would love to continue this, I think its impact stands as being a one shot. I hope you enjoyed. Please let me know your thoughts.


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